NINETEEN

After one of the longest, most tension filled nights of his life, Alan finally managed to drift off well after midnight, but sleep was neither lasting nor satisfying.  Adding to his discomfort, when he awakened before dawn, he discovered that he had a slightly scratchy throat in addition to his overwhelming weariness. 

His hand moved to his throat, rubbing and probing it with his fingertips, feeling surprised that he had become ill.  He had never been sick a single day on the island, and had attributed it to the fact that there were no people around from whom to catch viral infections.  Wondering if it was the lingering after-effects of the emotional day he had shared with Ellie or perhaps a bacterial infection picked up somewhere in the wilderness, he reached for the bottle of water he kept on the bedside table and took a long drink.  It was room temperature, but the wet warmth of the water soothed his raw throat, somewhat.  Replacing the cap on the bottle, he returned it to the table, casting a glance at the clock.  The illuminated numbers revealed the time as five o'clock.  The first hint of light would peek over the horizon within the next fifteen or twenty minutes, and the first glimpse of the sun would arrive over the watery coastal horizon shortly after five thirty before it finally rose over the mountain ranges a short time later.

With additional sleep out of the question, he arose and dressed in the dark.  Because he intended to get into the garden early, before the sun heated up the temperatures, he chose to skip his morning shower and wear the same clothing he had worn the day before.  After he came back in, he would then take his shower and put on clean clothes. 

Fully dressed, he pulled back his drape and stepped out of his cubicle, but paused briefly beside the drape that covered Ellie's door, listening for any sound, any indication that she was awake.  He heard nothing behind the drab curtain, so he proceeded downstairs to the kitchen and flipped on the overhead light.  The abrupt glare made him squint, and he yawned with the desire for more sleep.

Moving to the corner of the countertop where the coffee maker was located, he put on a pot of coffee.  Moving his hand to his throat again, in a useless attempt to ease the painful scratchiness that continued to linger, he leaned against the countertop, waiting, and wishing for a newspaper.  The lack of a morning newspaper was one of the worst things about his isolation on the island.  He was aware of the events that were occurring on the rest of the planet through occasional radio reports, but the detailed accounts found in the newspaper were sorely missed.  Idly, he wondered if it was possible to find Montana newspapers such as the Billings Gazette or the Great Falls Tribune somewhere in Costa Rica.  Deciding that was not likely, he more realistically wondered if Miguel could come across one of the larger newspapers, like USA Today or the New York or LA Times.  It might be a few days old, given the travel time involved, but he would have to remember to ask Miguel next time he placed a supply order.

When the coffee was ready, he poured a cup and took a sip, then grimaced as the hot liquid scalded his sore throat. 

"Ahh, damn!" he muttered, hoarsely. 

It was way too hot to be soothing, so he set it aside to cool as his eyes traveled around the kitchen, attempting to decide what he wanted for breakfast.  At the moment, though, he was so uncomfortable about the prospect of facing Ellie that it seemed to have robbed him of his appetite.  How would she react to seeing him?  Would she be cold and resentful, or would she be embarrassed?  Most importantly, would she demand that he send for Miguel to carry her off the island?

He moved to the pantry and scanned the boxes of cereal, but grimaced inwardly at the thought of forcing dry cereal down his sore throat.  He turned away from it and opened the refrigerator, his eyes scanning the foods that were kept there.  Nothing appetizing was coming to mind.

He closed the refrigerator, then wandered to the back door and opened the solid door to gaze out through the protective bars.  It was twilight outside now and he could easily see his garden waiting for him, but the sun had not yet risen over the mountains in the distance.

Slipping his arms through the bars, he folded his arms around them, as if embracing them, and leaned his forehead against the cold steel, his heart and mind in turmoil as his thoughts returned to Ellie, her startling request and the incident that had almost occurred during the night.  Things did indeed look different in the light of day, as the saying went, and he felt a tremendous relief that he had resisted the temptation to accept her proposition.  He only hoped that Ellie would feel that relief, as well.  He sighed heavily, understanding that his existence on the island could possibly be very different from that point forward, regardless of Ellie's decision to stay or remain.  Tension between them could make life very uncomfortable.

Daylight continued to advance, and the first rays of sunlight peeked over the mountains and illuminated the plants in the garden, reminding him of the work that needed doing.  With his sore throat, he was not looking forward to spending time in the dirt and pollen, but he knew that neglect would cause them to stop producing.  Deciding that he should just go on out to the garden and get it over with, he fished his key out of his pocket, inserted it in the keyhole of the barred door and pushed it open. 

He was locking the bars behind him just as Ellie came around the corner into the kitchen.  Although the angle was such that she could not see him from her position, she heard the key in the door, and realized that he had gone outside, unaware that she was up. 

A feeling of immense relief washed over her.  She was thankful that he had gone outside, for she wasn't ready to face him yet.  Mortified by her behavior the night before, she dreaded that inevitable encounter.  What must he think of her?

Her eyes fell upon the coffee pot.  The glass bowl was full of steaming brew, so she took a mug from the cupboard and poured herself a full cup.  As she sipped on the hot liquid, her eyes traveled from the coffee pot to the stove, where Alan had cooked dinner the night before, when she had been too distraught to even think about cooking or eating.  He had left spots of soup on the range without wiping them up.  Obviously, his concern for her had outweighed everything else, and he had either forgotten or simply neglected to wipe them up.

No matter; it would give her something to keep her hands busy.

She took another sip from the coffee mug then placed it on the counter beside Alan's mug, wondering why he had not finished it.  She went into the laundry room and picked up the bucket that was in its usual place on one of the disabled dryers.  Using the key he had provided for her, she opened the bars and stepped outside.  In the clean fresh air, she paused briefly, her eyes irresistibly drawn to Alan as if of their own accord, and she observed him for several moments as he worked among his vegetables.  What will he think of me? her conscience asked again, repeating that question that had been asked over and over since awaking.

Turning her attention back to the cleaning, she dipped up a nearly full bucket of water from the rain barrel.  It was heavy, but she felt tremendous satisfaction in her ability to lift it and carry it inside.  That was much more than she had been capable of doing a few weeks earlier.  Her strenuous workouts were paying off.

Setting the heavy bucket down on the floor, she locked the bars again, and then, wrapping both hands around the handle, she lugged the bucket back to the kitchen.  It bumped against her knee once and water sloshed over the rim onto the floor, but she managed to reach the stove with no additional accidents.

Lifting the bucket high enough to fill the kettle was another matter, and she was forced to use a pot to make the transfer.  Then she turned on the fire under the kettle.  While it heated, she mopped up the water she had spilled on the floor, then removed one of the loaves of squash bread from the freezer and placed it near the stove to thaw.  Spread with butter, it would make an excellent breakfast.

When the water was heated, she had to wait for it to cool enough to handle, then she poured it back into the bucket.  Using the water, some cleaning fluid, and a sponge, she wiped off the dried and crusted soup from the stove, then cleaned all the drip bowls, and wiped down the inside of the oven.  While she was in a cleaning mood, or more appropriately while she needed something to keep her hands busy, she removed the canned and packaged goods from the pantry and wiped down each linoleum covered shelf before replacing the items.

The water in the bucket was now brownish with grime, so she lugged it to the back door, unlocked the barred door and pushed it open.  After she returned the key to her pocket, she turned to pick up the bucket.  As she lifted it, she gave it a mighty heave, noticing out of the corner of her eye that a shadow had moved directly in front of her.  Realizing what it was, she made a futile attempt to check her swing, but she was totally committed.  The water sloshed in a huge arc out the back door, and she heard the splat of it striking the ground . . . and something else.

She turned slowly to face the dripping wet paleontologist, on whom she had just ejected the entire bucket of water.  From his stunned expression, she realized that he had gotten it full in the face.  His hair was plastered against his head, and the front of his shirt and trousers were soaked.

They stood there for several silent moments staring at one another, Ellie with her hand clapped over her mouth in a curious combination of amusement and horror, Alan with his jaw drooping open in apparent shock, water pooling at his feet.

Finally, Ellie was able to stifle her laughter no longer.  She giggled.  "Oh, Alan!  I'm sorry!  I tried to stop, but I was already in the middle of my swing before I realized you were there!"

"I saw the door open, but by the time I realized what you were doing, it was too late to get out of the way.  I started to shout a warning, but the water was already in the air and I knew I'd get a mouthful if I tried to speak," he told her, feeling the hilarity that was bubbling up inside him as he gazed down at his drenched clothing.  Ellie was still giggling uncontrollably, and he knew he probably looked quite comical.  "I wish I could have seen this from the other side!"

"I wish I could have seen it, period!" Ellie retorted.  "I was turning away just as I threw the water!"

They both burst out laughing.

"What was in this water, anyway?" Alan asked, curiously, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement.  He lifted his arm to his face and sniffed his sleeve.  "Smells like pine cleaner."

"That's exactly what it is!  I cleaned the soup off the stove that you spilled last night, and then cleaned the oven and the pantry shelves.  In case you're wondering, the water was brown when I tossed it out!"

"You just have to pass along that little bit of information, didn't you?" he asked, still grinning broadly.  "So basically, you're telling me that I'm wearing spilled soup and oven grime with a little pantry dirt thrown in for good measure, is that it?"

She nodded, relieved that he had responded to the incident with good humor.  The brief thought, what would Mark have done? was quickly banished to the back of her mind.  Mark was dead; there was no need to concern herself about how angry he would have been, and that knowledge left her feeling strangely liberated.  It was behind her, now, and the future lay ahead, and she was ready to embrace it.  "That about covers it, except that it was a lot of pantry dirt!"

"Well, I guess I really need a bath, now.  You know, the water is still warm.  In spite of the filth, it actually felt pretty good!  I had almost forgotten what it feels like to immerse myself in warm water."

"Oh, what I wouldn't give for a hot bath!" Ellie exclaimed wistfully when their laughter died down again.  "I think it's the one thing I miss most about civilization."

"Yeah, me too," he agreed, then reiterated, "If I could figure out a way of heating the water upstairs, I'd do it."  He shrugged, and mused, "Maybe a bonfire in the extra shower stall . . ."

His expression and his words were so serious that it took a moment before she realized that he was kidding.  "Don't get my hopes up like that!" she scolded.

"Sorry.  Well, I guess I'd better get cleaned up."

Responding to his words, Ellie moved backed from the doorway to allow him room to enter, and with a smile she noticed the aroma of pine cleaner that lingered on him as he moved past her.  Then, her eyes fell to the floor, and saw the trail of mud and the puddles of water that he left behind.  With a sigh, she took the bucket back outside and scooped up enough water from the rain barrel to mop the floors, but she didn't bother heating it this time, since there was really no need to sterilize it.
                                                                         ~~~

Freshly washed and dressed in clean clothes, Alan came back downstairs and joined Ellie in the kitchen as she was slicing big pieces of squash bread, but instead of moving up beside her, he walked to the other side of the stainless steel preparation table so that it separated them.

"We don't have any eggs or bacon, and I didn't want cold cereal today, so I thought we'd just have some of this squash bread for breakfast," she explained.

"Fine," he answered, watched as she spread butter generously on the top of each slice.

A fleeting, uncomfortable glance was exchanged between them as she pushed his plate toward him, then she went to the coffee pot in the corner and poured herself another cup, but it seemed to Alan that it was a convenient excuse to place some distance between them.  She leaned her back against the counter top and stared into the dark liquid inside her cup, trying to muster the courage to clear the air.

Even though he wasn't very hungry, Alan picked up his fork and took a bite of the squash bread.  It was still delicious, even cold, but his sore throat made swallowing almost as uncomfortable as the sudden silence that had settled over them.  He knew that his face was warm with a slight fever, but made no comment regarding his illness.

Finally, refusing to meet his gaze, Ellie said, "Alan, about last night -"

"Ellie, I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings," he interrupted as he put down his fork again, hoping to smooth out any ill feelings before she could tell him she wanted to leave the island.  "You know I would never, ever do anything that would deliberately hurt you.  Your friendship means too much to me.  It's just that ---"

She raised her hand, stopping him, but her gaze was fixed so intently on her coffee cup that she appeared to be speaking to it instead of him as she said, "I know all that, Alan.  You don't have to explain.  I value your friendship too, and I'm sorry I put you in that position last night.  You were right to stop it before it went any farther.  I would have felt terrible this morning.  And you were right about my vulnerability.  I didn't want to believe it, but it's true.  I needed to be comforted last night, and I was channeling that need into the wrong place."  Finally, her eyes lifted to his face.  "Anyone else would have taken advantage of that, and I appreciate your good sense and self-restraint."

He looked so relieved that she almost smiled in response to it.  "I was afraid that things would be different between us, now; that we would be uncomfortable around each other," he admitted.

She paused briefly, thinking about that.  Were it someone else, it might have been true, but not with him.  "I feel more comfortable around you than with anyone else," she said.

"I feel the same way about you."

"You were wrong about one thing, though," she continued.  "I wouldn't have hated you.  I could never hate you, Alan.  Even if you had not resisted last night, it would have been my fault because I encouraged it.  I practically begged you to do it, and I would have hated myself for allowing it to happen too soon.  I would have felt like I was betraying Mark and the kids, and I thank you for your self-restraint.  After being on this island alone for seven months, it couldn't have been easy for you."

"You have no idea," he said, softly.  He swallowed hard, then took a deep breath and admitted, "I'm really not the Rock of Gibraltar that you think I am.  I really wanted you last night.  You have no idea how close I came . . ."  His voice trailed, and he picked up his fork again, directing his attention back to his breakfast to refrain from revealing to her the fact that had she been awake when he had gone to her cubical, the end result might have been very different. 

She lowered her gaze to her coffee cup again, feeling ashamed by her behavior, yet she could not deny the thrill she felt by his admission that he wanted her.  "I feel like some kind of seductive temptress, leading you on like that.  I'm sorry."

"I'll get over it."

"Still friends?"

"Forever."

He wanted to go to her, to put his arms around her in a friendly embrace, but knew that he would be tempting fate if he did, so he firmly stood his ground on his side of the preparation table. 

She seemed to feel the same way, for although her eyes and her expression were affectionate, she continued to maintain her distance when she asked, "What are we going to do today?"

He looked rather skeptical.  "You were pretty upset yesterday.  Maybe you'd rather take it easy for a few days and just read a book, or something."

"You mean take the time to pull myself back together," she said, speaking the words he had avoided saying.  "No, I want to get back to work.  I really do," she added vehemently in response to the doubt she saw on his face.  "I'm not going to fall apart on you again, I promise.  Sitting here brooding about the accident is exactly what I was doing at home all those months.  I'm all right, now.  I've come to terms with it, and I'm ready to go back to work."

Still he hesitated, obviously concerned that she would break down again while out in the field.  "Well, if you're sure."

"I'm positive.  Alan, it's behind me, now," she insisted.  "I'm ready to move forward."

"Okay, then I guess we'll head out and see what we can find."

When they had finished eating their squash bread and finished with the coffee, they placed the dishes in the sink and turned off the coffee pot, and gathered up their gear in preparation of going out into the wilderness again.

                                                                                ~~~

The grass in the sunny yard of the compound was sparkling with dew when Alan and Ellie emerged from the dormitory after breakfast and made their way into the jungle in search for research subjects.  As usual, they carried in their backpacks their cameras, bottles of water, and sandwiches wrapped in plastic wrap to eliminate the need to return to the dormitory for lunch.

Alan had often said that the most exciting discoveries were the ones that were stumbled upon by accident, and that was how things unfolded that day.  While proceeding through the jungle just before noon, they heard the unmistakable sounds of a large animal in an adjacent clearing.  Not knowing what species it was, they stopped to investigate.

"Wait here," Alan told her.  Quickly, he shed his backpack for greater mobility and laid it down on the ground, then pushed his way carefully through the fronds until he found the source of the sounds. 

There, in the large open space beyond, a Parasaurolophus stood near the protection of a high bluff.  They were a common dinosaur on the island, and its presence alone was not remarkable.  Its activity, however, was very significant, and caused Alan's heartbeat to step up with excitement, for it was a sight he had never witnessed before.   Usually seen standing on its rear legs, this one was on all fours.  It had scooped out a circle in the soft earth against the bluff, and was crouched over it.  He watched, fascinated, as an egg was deposited inside the circle.

Moving quietly, Alan hurried back to his pack and unzipped it.  "It's a Parasaurolophis, and she's laying eggs!" he told her, excitedly as he shoved his hand inside the pack for his camera.  "I want you to take your camera, and follow the path I just made through the ferns.  I'm going around to the other side to get a different angle.  Be very, very careful not to disturb her."

Ellie nodded, excitedly, "Okay," she whispered.

Then, with camera in hand, Alan left the backpacks on the ground and made his way through the undergrowth toward the clearing, approaching it from the other side.

Following Alan's instruction, Ellie retrieved the other camcorder from her backpack, and crept quietly through the fronds toward the clearing and stopped, just inside the line of heavy foliage.  It was a large area, almost completely open except for the scattered trees that provided enough foliage to prevent much sunlight from filtering through the canopy.  The dinosaur was a considerable distance away, so she lifted the camcorder to her eye and adjusted the zoom lens to the appropriate setting and began recording the remarkable event.

When the last of the eggs, surprisingly small for a creature of that size, had been carefully deposited in the nest, the Parasaurolophus used its duckbilled mouth as a shovel, scooping dirt and rotting vegetation into a mound over her eggs, much like the crocodilian species of modern times.  The compost would heat up and incubate the eggs.

After the nest was sufficiently covered, the dinosaur did not move away to feed, but remained nearby.  Ellie realized that it was resting and guarding its eggs.  Intrigued, she continued to watch as the creature returned repeatedly to the nest as if to reexamine it.  Occasionally, it made minor adjustments, adding a bit more compost to the heap.

Alan shut off his camera and made his way back through the jungle to his backpack.  When he reached it, he paused briefly to examine the camera, determining how much tape was left, then he stopped to pick up the canvas backpack.  Ellie had not yet returned, so he returned the camera to the pack, then placed it on the ground again and started to turn back toward the direction she had taken.

At that moment, he was struck from behind without warning, a blow so hard that it knocked the breath out of his lungs and sent him plunging onto his face on the mossy ground.  Spread-eagled, he lay still for a moment, stunned, as he struggled to force air back into his lungs.  For several panicked moments, he feared he would suffocate before his lungs finally expanded enough to allow a grateful gasp.  After drawing several deep breaths, that sensation of panic began to ebb.

Pain numbed his battered body as he rolled over onto his back and stared into the treetops overheard.  Sitting on a low branch directly above him, a large parrot tipped its head from side to side, watching him curiously out of each eye.

"What are you staring at?" he asked.

The parrot fluffed its feathers as if offended by his query, and returned to its preening.

Hearing an angry snorting sound, Alan lifted his head to face his attacker.  With no surprise, he saw that it was a Pachycephalosaurus, sometimes called a "headbutter", because of its curious habit of using its head as a battering ram to knock adversaries off balance.  It was a bipedal herbivore with a thick sturdy neck and a skull protected by nine inches of solid bone, not one of the giants, but large enough to do serious damage.  He had been totally unaware that the animal was in the vicinity.

The animal backed away several paces, staring at him with an intimidating posture that told Alan it was preparing to charge at him again.  He only rarely encountered the strange creatures, but he knew that although generally harmless, they were very aggressive if they felt threatened.

Remaining calm, Alan lowered his hand to his belt and fumbled with his shock prod.  As he started to withdraw it from the loop on his belt, the Packy lowered its head like a Billy goat and charged at him.  Alan cringed, waiting for the impact that never came.  It had been a false charge, rushing at him for several steps, then stopped and backed off, unable to tilt its head to the proper angle to strike the man effectively as he lay flat on the ground.  It snorted and shook its domed head, angrily, as if frustrated that the man wasn't interested in a fight, then it opened its beaked mouth and uttered a challenge. 

Realizing that it was unable to get a good angle to do sufficient damage to him, Alan pressed his body flat to the ground, making as small a target as possible as he began working the prod from its loop again. 

"Alan?  What's going on over there?" Ellie's voice drifted through the foliage.

"Stay back," he warned.  "It's just a Pachycephalosaurus, but it's in a very bad mood."

She approached cautiously, making her way through the foliage, but stopped while still inside the cluster of ferns to assess the situation.  Alan lay flat on the ground, keeping a wary eye on the dinosaur, and she saw that he was slowly working the prod from its loop.  The animal was clearly agitated, as evidenced by its aggressive posture.  Each time Alan moved even slightly, the animal's muscles flinched, preparing to charge again.

"Alan, be careful," she advised.  "It looks really mad."

"Tell me about it," he agreed.

The Packy flinched nervously at the sight and sound of the woman.  Its mouth opened again, and it uttered a warning cry.  One clawed foot scratched at the ground.

"I'll distract it while you get the shock prod loose," she suggested.

"Be careful, Ellie," Alan cautioned.  "It means business."

"So do I," she replied, keeping her voice calm, determined that it would not detect fear in her voice, even though her heart was pounding wildly as she faced the angry creature.  Remaining inside the foliage, where she could dodge behind a tree if it charged her, she circled slowly to her left, drawing the animal's attention away from Alan.

It snorted again, and its eyes followed her, providing ample time for Alan to free the shock prod and activate it.  Trying to ignore the pain in his back, he struggled to his feet, a movement which drew the animal's attention back to him.  It lowered its head to charge, but Alan moved toward it to minimize the effect of the impact, meeting the attack with the shock prod extended at arm's length.  As it neared, he delivered an electrical shock to the front of the animal's shoulder.  With a cry of pain and surprise, it veered off to one side and came to a stop a short distance away, where it observed him with a great deal more respect.

For several moments, Alan and the Packy faced each other, each staring into the eyes of the other like two poker players trying to bluff, waiting for the other to make a move.  Finally, the peculiar creature seemed to decide that it would be prudent to withdraw, and it moved away into the brush.

Alan and Ellie both watched as the creature disappeared into the foliage, then Ellie turned toward Alan, noticing that his hand was pressed against his back, just right of his spine. 

"Alan, are you all right?" she asked, placing her hand gently over his.

His back had begun to hurt terribly where the dinosaur had struck him.  "I now have first hand knowledge of what it feels like to be butted by a Pachycephalosaurus," he told her.  "The little ripper knocked me clean off my feet," he added with just a trace of the accent from his New Zealand homeland.

Trying to make light of his discomfort, he lifted his arm to return the shock prod to its loop, but the simple movement caused his back to cringe with pain.  He struggled to maintain a neutral expression, intending to withhold the intensity of the pain from her, as he pushed the prod back into place.  It would fade, in time, he told himself.

A frown etched Ellie's brow, watching him carefully enough to see through his charade.  "You may have some broken ribs," she told him.

"Maybe," he admitted.

"I think we should go back to the dormitory," she suggested.

He nodded.  "Yeah, okay.  We got some great footage today.  What we saw today has never been witnessed by humans before, as far as I can tell from the notes left behind.  All the dinosaurs in the lab were created by the researchers, not by nature, so this is a major scientific discovery.  Think of it, Ellie.  We're the first people ever who have witnessed this!"

"Forget the research for now, Alan," she told him.  "We need to make sure you're okay before we do anything else."

He started to bend over to pick up the backpacks from the ground, but stopped short when he felt the pain increase in his ribs.  With a mild exclamation, his hand went to his back again.

Ellie saw the hesitation, and bent to pick them up.  "I'll carry them," she told him when he reached for one.

"Ellie, I'm fine.   Really," he insisted.

"I've got them," she said, firmly, refusing to release her grip on them.

He shrugged, relinquishing the items into her care, and they started back to the compound.  It was slow going, for in spite of Alan's attempts to convince Ellie that he wasn't hurting that badly, she could tell that he was in a great deal of pain simply by his slightly rigid torso as he walked and the fact that his hand kept discretely moving to his back.

 

When they reached the dormitory, Ellie took her key from her pocket and inserted it in the lock, and pushed it open, allowing Alan to enter first.

As she placed the backpacks at the foot of the coat and hat rack, now conspicuously absent of Alan's familiar fedora, she said, "We should call Miguel, and have him come to get you.  You should have that looked at.  If your ribs are broken ---"

"You know there's really nothing that can be done for broken ribs, anyway.  They'll just take X-Rays, and tell me to take it easy for awhile.  You can wrap them up for me.  It'll be fine."

She shrugged at the truth of his logic. "They could give you something for the pain," she reminded him as she locked the door behind them.

"It isn't that bad," he assured her.

"Yes, it is," she contradicted.  "I can see it in your eyes."

He looked away, as if to prevent his eyes from betraying him further.  "I'll take some aspirin if it gets too bad."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're as stubborn as a mule?"

He smiled.  "I've been called worse."

She sighed with the futility of trying to reason with him.  After several moments of silence, Ellie took his arm.  "Let's go upstairs and wrap up those ribs, just in case."

He submitted to her firm pull on his arm, permitting her to lead him up the stairs to the bathroom, where she placed him on a utility stool in front of the large cabinet marked "First Aid".  She opened the double doors on the first aid cabinet, and looked over the contents.  As expected, it contained outdated bottles of aspirin and Tylenol, plus unopened boxes of band aides, rolls of bandages of varying sizes and iodine.  Curiously, it contained an assortment of syringes.  Below the cabinet was a small refrigerator, so she opened it to see what was inside.  Inside it were dozens of small drug bottles.

"This thing is really well stocked," she told him.  She reached out and picked up a small bottle to look at the label.  "Look at this:  They even had morphine and penicillin, both oral and injection."

Alan had already seen the contents.  "They were prepared for almost anything," he said.

She selected a roll of wide bandages from the assortment.  "Take off your shirt," she instructed.

With obvious difficulty, he slowly peeled off his shirt, exposing his injured back.

Ellie couldn't suppress a painful "Ahhh" as she observed the injury.  "Alan, you have a bruise here the size of a small watermelon."

"I'm not surprised," he said.  "It knocked the wind out of me."

"You're very lucky.  That thing would have broken your back if it had hit you just a little more to the left."  As gently as she could, she probed the injury with her fingers.

He winced, drawing away from her touch, and he sucked his breath in through his teeth with a hissing sound.

She nodded, affirmatively.  "I suspect you have at least two broken ribs, Alan.  I wish you would reconsider and call Miguel."

"Nah, it'll be all right.  We'll wait awhile, and if it gets worse, then we'll call him."

She glanced at his face, doubtfully.  "Is that a promise?"

"I promise."

"All right, then."  She opened the cellophane wrapping on the bandages.  Placing the end against his abdomen, she said, "Hold this here."

He pressed his fingers against it, holding it against his skin, while she wrapped it tightly around his torso.  When she estimated that it was enough, she anchored it with safety pins, and returned the unused portion to the first aid cabinet and closed the doors.

"That's pretty tight," he told her.

"It's supposed to be tight to support those ribs."

He nodded.  "Yeah, I know.  It's just a little uncomfortable."

"It's going to get even more uncomfortable when you try to sleep tonight," she warned.

He had experienced broken bones before, and knew that was probably true.  He remained on the stool for several moments, his hand pressing lightly against his back.  Drawing a deep breath was becoming extremely painful, and made even more difficult by the tightness of the wrapping.

Ellie was watching him carefully, scrutinizing every indication of pain.  "You weren't aware that it was in the area?"

""No, I wasn't.  All right, from now on, we won't separate like we did today.  That way, we can watch each other's backs."

"You're not going out for awhile," she told him, firmly.  "I mean it, Alan.  If I have to tie you to the bed, you're staying put until those ribs start to heal."

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and he sought to alleviate her worries by joking, "That might be interesting ---"

She whacked him hard on the shoulder with her hand, a loud crack against his bare skin, and he was surprised to realize that she was not joking.  Then, upset with herself for striking him, she covered her face with her hands, and wept silently.

He stood up and placed a comforting arm around her waist, and drew her close.  "I'm sorry, Ellie.  That was thoughtless of me.  I promise I'll take it easy for awhile."

She put her arms around him, and wept softly on his shoulder.  "I'm sorry I hit you.  I don't know what came over me.  First the Rex, and now this.  The thought of losing you just tears me up inside."

Now is the time, said a voice inside his head.  Tell her now.  Tell her how you feel about her!  "It's all right," he said again, ignoring the voice.

She drew back, gazing into his eyes through the veil of tears that filled her own.  "Forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive," he assured her.

Finally, she wiped the tears from her face with an angry swipe of her hand, as if annoyed that he had seen her cry again.  "I need to go downstairs and see if I can find anything to fix for supper," she said, shortly.

"Don't go to any trouble," he said, rubbing his hand gingerly over the bandage that was wrapped tightly around his torso.  "Just fix sandwiches or something simple.  I'm not very hungry right now, anyway."

"Okay."  She started toward the door, then stopped to look back at him.  He had made no effort to follow her.  "Are you coming?"

He managed a smile, but his lips appeared thin, as if they were pressed tightly together.  Ellie knew that he was suppressing pain.  "I'll be along soon."

She nodded.  "Okay."

As soon as she had disappeared through the door, he gripped the edge of the sink and grimaced from the pain he had been holding inside in her presence.
                                                       ~~~

Later, as dusk was beginning to fall, Ellie opened a can of Spam and sliced it, then placed the slices in the frying pan.  While they browned, she placed four slices of bread in the toaster.  Then, she watched the Spam sizzle and pop in the pan.  When one side was browned, she used a fork to turn the meat to the other side.  She had always wondered what was in the curiously tasty canned meat, but had never dared to look at the ingredients.  Some things were better left alone.

When the sandwiches were ready, she placed them on a tray along with two cans of soda and the bag of potato chips, and carried it into the living room, where Alan was waiting on the sofa.

She paused in the doorway to observe him with a worried frown.  He was leaning back so far that he was almost reclining, his head resting on the back of the sofa, eyes closed.  His hand was at his forehead, his fingers rubbing the skin as if nursing a headache.  He was obviously not feeling well.

"I hope you like Spam," she said, putting forth a cheerful front as she entered the room.

He opened his eyes and watched as she placed the tray on the coffee table in front of him.  "I like it fine," he replied, but he made no effort to rise.

She was watching him as she pulled the wing chair closer, and sat down, noticing that he seemed reluctant to move.  "Alan, I wish you would let me call Miguel."

"I'll be okay," he told her with a trace of impatience.

She glanced at him, sharply, resenting the harsh tone to his voice, but she made no comment, understanding that it came from the fact that he was in more pain than he was telling her.

He immediately regretted his impatience with her.  In response to the sharp glance she gave him, he added, "I'm sorry if I sound sharp.  I know you're just concerned, but if I feel I need a doctor, I'll let you know."

She was clearly dissatisfied with his answer, but there was nothing she could do to change his mind, so she did not try.

Slowly, concentrating intently on keeping his facial expression from revealing his pain, he pulled himself into a seated position, and reached for the sandwich.  She noticed how carefully he moved, and although he tried to conceal it, she could see the pain in his eyes.  Windows to the soul, her mother had always said.  He had successfully kept his expression immobile, but he could not hide the agony in his expressive blue eyes.

She bit back the request again, knowing that it would do no good to keep asking him for the phone.  He was a stubborn man who insisted on doing everything his way.

Tense silence permeated the room as they picked up their sandwiches, but Alan ate with little enthusiasm.  Finally, after only a few bites, he dropped the rest of it back on the plate.

Her brow puckered with worry.  "Didn't you like the sandwich?  Could I fix something else?'

He shook his head.  "It was fine.  I'm just not very hungry."  He sighed, heavily.  "I think I'll go on up to bed."

With worry in her eyes, she nodded.  "The rest will do you good.  The doctor gave me some pain pills after my surgery, and I still have some.  Do you want me to get them for you?"

He shook his head.  He just wanted, needed, to be alone.  "No.  If I need it later, I'll let you know."

"Don't hesitate to wake me up if you need me," she urged.

"I will," he promised.

Careful to keep his expression neutral, even though the effort was almost more than he could bear, he pushed himself up from the sofa and rose to his full height, although he would have preferred to bend sideways at the waist in an effort to lessen the pain.  Without looking back at her, knowing she was watching him, he left the room.  He had withheld it from Ellie, but he was feeling quite ill.

In the foyer, safely out of her line of vision, he leaned on the banister post and briefly allowed the pain to surface in his face and his posture as his hand sought out the ribs that he was certain were fractured.  Leaning forward, he pressed his forehead against his arm, which was draped across the rounded top of the banister post, and closed his eyes, waiting for the pain to subside.

Finally, when the pain did not ease, he made his way slowly up the stairs before Ellie saw him there.  He went directly to his cubical and began to undress.  The process was agonizing, and he moved slowly and carefully in an effort to minimize the pain.  He managed to get the shirt off, but gave up on the idea of removing his jeans.  He did not think he could successfully bend over far enough to get them off, so he lay down on his bunk, his arm draped across his eyes, as if shielding his agony from anyone who might see.

He knew Ellie was right; he should see a doctor, but he also knew that once off the island, she would attempt to prevent him from returning.  Better that he not leave at all, if he could avoid it.  There would always be time to see a doctor later, if the pain worsened or persisted.  Six weeks was the average length of time for broken bones to mend but he felt he should be able to move about freely in two or three weeks, if he was careful.

He shifted his weight, seeking a more comfortable position.  Lying on his back was placing his weight directly on the broken ribs, so he shifted slightly to his left.  Not much better, but he doubted that he could find a position that relieved the pain completely.  He would just have to live with it for awhile.  If it became worse, he could accept one of the painkillers that Ellie had generously offered.

He was still awake when he heard her move quietly into the room.  The curtain rustled slightly as she parted it to peer inside at him.  He did not move, allowing her to think he was asleep.  Apparently satisfied that he was resting at least somewhat comfortably, she let the curtain fall back into place, and moved to her own cubical to prepare for bed.

He listened while she undressed, and heard the sheets rustle as she lay down.  Love for her filled his heart, love he had never declared, love he was not sure he could ever declare, even though he knew she had always wanted to hear it.  If he had spoken the words before, she never would have left him.

With that thought in his mind, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

 

TWENTY

He must have managed to fall asleep in spite of his discomfort, for he awakened abruptly an undeterminable amount of time later.  It was still very dark, and he knew from his months on the island that the temperature was probably in the mid-seventies at this time of night, yet he felt unbearably cold, a fact that alarmed him.  He was living on a tropical island, where the temperature seldom fell below seventy degrees, yet he was shivering as if he was residing in Siberia.  With a stab of concern, he wondered if his injuries were more serious than just fractured ribs.

Reaching down, he drew the bed sheet up to his chin, but the thin cotton offered very little in the way of warmth, and his body began to shiver uncontrollably.  To ease the chill, he knew he would have to get a blanket from the linen closet.  Grimacing against the pain, he pushed himself up on his elbow, intending to rise, but the sudden stab of pain was like a knife had been thrust into his back.  With a barely muffled cry of agony, he fell back on his pillow and with his face contorted in reaction to his suffering he waited for the pain to ease.

Ellie was at his side an instant later, her soft hand cool on his hot forehead, and he felt the mattress shift slightly as she sat down on the edge of his bed. 

"Alan, you're burning up," he heard her voice coming to him through the darkness, filled with concern.

He opened his eyes, which he had squeezed shut in pain, and could see her shadowy figure close to him as she reached over to the bedside table and flipped on the lamp.  It was a multi-wattage bulb, and she adjusted it to the lowest setting, illuminating the cubical with a soft glow of light

"F-f-freezing," he shivered.  Squinting in the abruptness of the light, he could see that worried frown on her face as she observed him.  She was dressed in her favorite warm weather sleepwear, an oversized tee shirt, and her long blonde hair tumbled chaotically over her shoulders and down her back, but to him, she had never looked more beautiful and her presence had never been more welcomed.  To have responded so quickly, he knew that she had been lying awake in her bunk, generated perhaps by some maternal instinct indigenous to women.

"You're having chills," she told him, her voice filled with concern.  "Alan, something is wrong.  You shouldn't be having chills from a couple of broken ribs.  You could have internal injuries, or you may have an infection somewhere.  Both could be serious if left untreated."

"If there is an infection, it probably isn't related to the injury," he told her, his voice trembling from the chills he was experiencing.

"You don't know that.  We know very little about these animals.  There could be some kind of toxin in their claws or their teeth or even in their saliva or their skin.  We just don't know.  And if there are internal injuries, you could require surgery.  Alan, please let me call Miguel," she pleaded.

He was seriously tempted, this time.  Doing nothing about internal injuries was like sitting on a powder keg, waiting for it to explode, but he was reluctant to attempt the long trek through the jungle to get to the landing strip.  Finally, he made a feeble attempt to shake his head, negatively.  "Let's give it a little more time before we jump to conclusions."

"Damn it!  Alan Grant, you are the most stubborn man I've ever met!" she told him, her voice rising in frustration.  "Hasn't it occurred to you that you could die from this?"  She lowered her voice, and gently caressed his cheek with her hand.  "I don't know what I would do if I lost you, too."

He gazed at her for several moments, hearing the tears and the love that was vividly expressed her words and in her voice.  "I don't think it's the injury that's causing the chills and fever.  I had a sore throat and a fever yesterday morning, and this fever is probably related to that."

She drew back to gaze at him, skeptically, obviously wondering if he was being truthful or if he was fibbing just to ease her worry.  "You never mentioned that."

Her skepticism was not unexpected, for he was well known for shrugging off his own injuries.  "I know.  I didn't say anything because you tend to fuss."

"I do not fuss!" she protested in her defense, but had to concede that he was right.  "Well, not very much.  You shouldn't have gone out in the field if you weren't feeling well, Alan.  You might have made it worse."

"See why I didn't tell you?"

"Alan, this could be serious."

He fell silent for several moments, weighing the situation and the ramifications of delaying medical treatment too long.  "All right.  If it gets worse, I'll let you call Miguel in the morning, but only if you make me a promise."

"What kind of promise?"

"That you won't try to stop me from coming back to this island."

That was something, but she still wasn't completely satisfied.  She knew she could not physically prevent him from returning to the island if his mind was set on it, but he knew her well enough to realize that she would probably attempt to persuade him not to go.  And she was well aware that she could be pretty aggressive in her attempts to persuade.

Her smile trembled, slightly.  "You know me too well, don't you?" she asked, softly.

"And you know me, Ellie.  There is still too much work to do, too much research that needs to be done.  We have to wait until those eggs hatch.  Think of the scientific value of film footage of naturally conceived dinosaurs hatching from their eggs.  I can't quit, yet.  I won't!"

She nodded her agreement.  "All right.  I won't try to stop you from coming back, as long as you let me come with you.  We're in this together from now on, all right?"

A smile flickered briefly across his lips.  "I thought you'd probably say that."  He reached up and touched her cheek with his fingertips, stroking softly with his thumb.  She covered his hand with hers, savoring the touch.  "All those years without you  . . . I've missed you so much, Ellie," he admitted.  "I'm glad you're here."

"I'm glad I'm here, too," she told him.  

He withdrew the hand and rested it lightly on the white sheet that was still pulled up to his chin in an attempt to find warmth.  Her frown deepened as she watched his face, recognizing the pain that was etched into his features, and his surprising confession made her wonder if he was becoming delirious from his injuries.  His eyes were bright with fever, and his face was flushed.  His lips were pressed tightly together in pain, and she could see that he was still shaking with cold.

"Ellie, could you get me a blanket?" he asked.

She nodded.  "Okay."

She hurried down the hall in her bare feet and withdrew a blanket from the linen closet.  Returning to Alan's cubical, she opened it up and spread it over him, then sat down again on the edge of his bed.

"Better?" she asked.

"Yeah.  Thanks."  He turned his head on the pillow and closed his eyes, as if to go back to sleep, but she knew that he was attempting to conceal his pain from her by turning his face away.  After a moment, he pressed his fist against his lips and closed his eyes tighter, indications that he was struggling to fight off the pain.

"I'm getting those pain pills, and you're going to take one," she told him, firmly.  She hurried back to her own cubical and rifled through her underwear in the dresser until she found the prescription bottles of oral penicillin and pain medication from the prescriptions she had refilled just prior to leaving Arlington.  She snatched up both bottles and carried them back to Alan's cubical.

She sat down on the edge of his bunk again, and he did not object when she slipped her hand beneath his neck, urging him to raise his head.  "Alan, take this."

He winced from the pain generated by the movement, but he allowed her to press the tablet between his lips, and swallowed it with water from the bottle that she held against his mouth.  When it was down, she withdrew one of the capsules from its bottle, and held it out to him.  He looked up, curiously, "What is this one?'

"This is an antibiotic," she explained.  "I have a whole bottle of them.  If there is an infection, it should help."

He swallowed it as well, then eased his head back down on his pillow.  "Thanks," he murmured, attempting to smile.  "You just happened to have these handy?" he asked, curiously.

"No.  My doctor put me on antibiotics and painkillers after my surgery, and I had several refills left on my prescriptions, so I had them filled just in case one of us needed them.  I wasn't sure what I would find when I got here, so I thought I'd best be prepared for as many options as possible."

"You're very perceptive," he told her, admiringly.  "That's one of the things I've always admired about you.  You're always one step ahead of everything."

"Not everything," she said, wistfully.  "I wasn't a step ahead of the drunk driver who killed my family."  She dropped her eyes briefly and cleared her throat, then changed the subject.  "The painkiller starts working pretty quickly, especially on an empty stomach," she told him.  "It will also help you sleep.  I was in a stupor the whole time I was taking them.  That's why I finally quit taking them, but at this point I think the rest will do you good."

He did not answer.  He closed his eyes again, and after a few moments, she wondered if he had lapsed into unconsciousness.  Then she noticed that his body was rigid and his breathing was irregular.  More likely, his pain was so great that he simply did not wish to speak any more.  Reaching out again, she placed her hand on his forehead, smoothing back the long, lank hair and feeling the heat from his hot dry skin radiating into her palm.

Tears filled her eyes as love for him filled her heart.  Silently, she prayed for his recovery, hoping against hope that her fears were unwarranted, and that he would not require medical intervention.  She knew that waiting was very dangerous, for if he became completely incapacitated, she would be unable to get him to the landing strip so that Miguel could pick them up.

As the minutes ticked slowly past on the clock on Alan's bedside table, Ellie continued to sit silently on the edge of his bunk, waiting and watching until finally his breathing became more regular and then tenseness in his face began to ease.  She knew the painkiller was taking effect, but it did not ease her concern.  It suddenly occurred to her that Alan had never revealed to her the location of the satellite telephone.  If he lost consciousness, she would be unable to expedite a call for help.  Precious time would be lost in trying to find it.

"Alan, where is the phone?" she asked, again, hoping to acquire the information from him before he fell asleep.

"Hm?" he murmured.

She knew he was relaxing enough to drift off to sleep.  Placing her hand on his shoulder, she squeezed, hoping to rouse him enough to answer her.  "The phone, Alan.  Where is the phone?"

He stirred slightly, barely awake,  ". . . drawer . . ." he murmured.

"The drawer?  Which drawer?"  When her query failed to bring a response, she stood up and went to his dresser against the cubical wall, and opened each of the drawers, searching through his clothing and personal belongings, but found no sign of the phone.  "Alan, it isn't in any of the drawers."  When he did not answer, she pushed the drawer closed rather forcefully in her frustration.  "Damn!"

Behind her, he responded to the slam of the drawer with a low gasp.  The sudden noise had made him flinch, which had resulted in a twinge of pain.  She turned toward him, but he had relaxed again.  Her eyes dropped to the space beneath his bunk where he had placed his footlocker.  It wasn't a "drawer", but she had no way of knowing if he had actually understood her question, and it seemed as likely a place as any to keep a satellite telephone that was rarely used.

Dropping to her knees, she pulled it out and opened it.  It was empty.  Sitting back on her heels, she scanned the cubical with her eyes, realizing that she had expended every possible hiding place that was there.

Defeated, she shoved the footlocker under the bunk again, then sat down beside him on the edge of his bunk again, and watched with grave concern as he drifted closer to slept, wishing there was something more she could do to help him.

After a half hour, he stirred restlessly and pushed the sheet and the blanket back to his waist, as if it had suddenly grown too warm.  The shivering had stopped as his chills subsided.  Reaching out, she placed her hand against his cheek.  His skin remained hot to the touch.

Another half hour slowly dragged by with no noticeable change in his condition.  Rising, she went downstairs, intending to get a pan of ice water and a cloth with which to bathe his face, but as she neared the kitchen, she glanced down the corridor toward the room he was using as an office.

That must be it!  she thought as the realization soaked in.  That was the room in which he spent most of his waking hours when indoors.  The phone must be there, concealed in the desk he had been using.

With renewed hope, she hurried down the hall, and entered the office.  Turning on the light on the desk, she opened and closed each of the drawers until at last, lying at the bottom of one of them, she found the satellite telephone.  Next to it was the charger, its cord rolled up and neatly stored for use when needed. 

Triumphantly, she snatched up the phone.  Conveniently located beneath it was a list of phone numbers, including Miguel's, obviously placed there for easy access in the event that he needed it on short notice.  She had expected to see also the phone number of the Costa Rican coast guard, but she was surprised to see Mark's number at the State Department was included on the list, as well as that of John Hammond.  In the bottom of the drawer was a San José telephone book.  Obviously, he had covered all bases.

She held up the phone to the light and read off Miguel's phone number to herself, then abruptly stopped, experiencing guilt feelings.  Even though she disagreed with his request to wait, she had made a promise to Alan to give him until daylight.  She could not betray him unless his condition took a turn for the worse.  Against her better judgment, she returned the phone to the desk drawer.  She knew where it was, now, and if his condition was not improving by morning, she was determined she would make that call no matter how much he protested.

Slamming the desk drawer shut again, she stood up and went to the kitchen.  Locating a suitable pot amid the array of pots and pans stored in one of the cabinets, she opened the freezer.  It was still filled with biological samples in plastic bags, all meticulously labeled for study.  Ignoring the gruesome objects, she reached for the ice tray and filled the pot with cubes.  Next, she emptied a bottle of water in it, and carried it back upstairs.

She stopped briefly at the linen closet to grab a washcloth, and then proceeded to Alan's cubical.
He appeared to be sleeping soundly as she sat down on the edge of the bed again and placed that pan of water on the bedside table.  She dipped the cloth in the cold water, and pressed it lovingly to his hot forehead.

He was not quite asleep, as she had thought, for even though his eyes did not open, he drew as deep a breath as he could against the restraints of the bandage around his middle, and exhaled a contented sigh as he whispered, "That feels good."

"Just go to sleep," she instructed, softly.  "We'll talk in the morning."

His eyes fluttered open, and he watched her for a long time while she continued to press the cold cloth to his face, neck, and chest.  "You must have been a wonderful mother," he said, sadly. 

Her hands froze briefly in the cold water, reminded of what she had lost, but she knew that he did not intend to hurt her.  The medication had reduced his inhibitions when it came to speaking of a subject that was so painful for her. 

She nodded, affirmatively.  "I was a terrific mother," she told him.  "My children were everything in the world to me.  If I was given the opportunity to trade places with them, I wouldn't hesitate a minute."

"I really am sorry, Ellie."

"I know," she said.  "So am I."

He fell silent once again and closed his eyes.  Soon, he drifted into a deep, restful sleep.

                                          ~~~~~~

Dawn found Ellie still seated on the edge of Alan's bed, where she had remained throughout the night.  His fever had broken during the night, and he seemed to be resting easier, a fact that eased her mind only somewhat.  There was still the matter of protecting his broken ribs and the possibility of internal injuries.  She knew that at this point, the latter was unlikely to have occurred during the initial injury, but it could still happen if he was not careful. 

He had slept most of the night, induced by the pain killer she had given him, but she knew it was only masking the symptoms.  He needed to see a doctor, and she still hoped to convince him of that fact.  However, they faced a serious problem in how to get him to the landing strip.  It was a long hike even for someone in good physical condition.  Alan's injuries and illness would surely make the trip difficult.  If he refused to go, she wondered about the possibility of contacting the hospital for advice.

Lacing the fingers of both hands together into a double fist, she pressed them to her lips and closed her eyes, deep in thought as she contemplated the situation and tried to find a solution.

Alan awakened while Ellie was absorbed in her thoughts, and he lay quietly for several moments watching her, wondering if she was praying, and reluctant to disturb her if she was.

Finally, she sighed heavily, and turned back to face him, noticing that his eyes were open, looking at her.  "Alan," she said.  "I didn't know you were awake." 

He continued to gaze at her, noticing the weariness in her eyes.  "You look tired.  Have you been here all night?" he asked.

She nodded.  "I couldn't sleep."  She stroked his hair from his forehead with concerned fingers then pressed the hand against his cheek again, relieved that his skin remained cool to the touch.  "How do you feel?  You look a little better this morning."

"I feel a lot better, actually," he replied, then flinched, reminded of the injury he had sustained by a sudden twinge, "except for the pain in my back.  That hasn't let up any."

"Alan, I don't mean to nag, but you really should have those ribs looked at.  I don't suppose I can convince you to change your mind and let me call Miguel."

He shook his head on the pillow.  "I just don't see the point, Ellie.  I don't think I could make it to the landing strip, anyway.  That's a long walk, you know, and I just don't think I'm up to it."

She sighed, discouraged.  "I know, I've been thinking about that, trying to find an answer, but I can't come up with anything."

"Ellie, no one has ever died of broken ribs."

"No, but they die of internal injuries caused by the broken ribs."

"If I had internal injuries, they would have presented themselves by now.  It'll be okay.  I think its best if I just stayed in bed for a few days and let nature takes its course."

Her exhale was loud in the quiet room, but she was forced into reluctant agreement.  Had there been internal injuries, the symptoms would have been severe by now.  "All right, but I'm going to call the hospital in Costa Rica and see if they have any new treatments or suggestions for the care of broken ribs."

"You had a broken rib after the car accident," he reminded her.  "What did they do for you?"

"I was unconscious for the first three days and in a total stupor for several weeks after that," she said.  "I'm afraid I don't remember much of anything that they did for me during that time.  In your case, I'm thinking that the hospital might have some recommendations to at least make you more comfortable."

He nodded.  "Okay.  I won't object to that.  The phone is ---"

"I know, in the desk drawer, downstairs."

He looked puzzled.  "How did you know?"

"I went looking for it during the night.  I came within a hair's breadth of calling Miguel."  Her eyes flashed, expecting disapproval from him.  "And don't get mad at me for almost doing it, either!  I was really worried."

He smiled, amused by her defensiveness and rubbed his hand up and down her arm, affectionately.  "I'm not mad, Ellie.  I'm very touched that you care so much."

"Of course I care!" she retorted.  "I wouldn't even be here if I didn't care!"  She pressed her hand to her forehead, frustrated that she was unable to get him to seek medical attention, and was surprised to find that her skin was very warm to the touch. She pressed the back of her hand to her cheeks, feeling the heat that radiated from her smooth skin.  "Oh, that's just great!  Now I think I have a fever, too!"

He laughed before he could stop himself, but the stab of pain cut his laughter short.  "Ahh!" he groaned as he hand went automatically to his back.  "I'm going to have to remember not to do that!"  When the pain was manageable again, he said, "Well, I guess that explains why you're so temperamental right now.  Is your throat sore?"

"No.  Not yet, anyway.  And I'm not temperamental!  I'm just worried sick!  If you've given me some kind of a bug ---"

"I was thinking maybe you gave it to me!" he retorted with a teasing smile.  "I haven't been sick a single day since I came to this island, and now, three weeks after you arrive, I come down with a fever and sore throat.  This is your fault!"

"So, I'm to blame, huh?  Is that it?" she challenged, but she was smiling, pleased that he seemed to feel well enough to tease her.  Years ago, they had occasionally tickled one another playfully in bed, and had he not been suffering from broken ribs, she would have tickled him now, but of course she resisted the urge for fear of injuring his ribs further. 

They fell silent, but it was not an uncomfortable silence.  Reaching out with her hand, she gently stroked his shoulder with great fondness.  Responding to her touch, Alan took her hand and pressed it to his lips, the most affection he had demonstrated since that day when he had almost kissed her on the roof.

Tell her now!  She needs to know!  "Ellie, I'm not very good with things like this, but I want you to know . . . how much I . . .

Tell her!

" . . . care about you."

Damn!

It was not what he had intended to say and not what she had wanted to hear, but she seemed satisfied for now.  "I care about you, too," she replied.  She stood up.  "Okay, I'm going to go call the hospital, and see what they have to say."

"I'll just wait here," he said, reluctant to make the effort to rise.

"That's good.  I want you to stay in bed and rest for a few days, anyway.  I'll bring up some breakfast, if you feel like eating."

"Yeah, I do.  I'm feeling pretty hungry, in fact.  Do you have any of that Spam left?"

"Yes.  Could you eat a Spam sandwich?"

"Yeah, I think I could."

She went down stairs to the office, and withdrew the telephone from the drawer again, and her eyes examined it critically, studying the keypad.  She had never used a satellite telephone before, but it seemed simple enough.  Withdrawing the phone directory, she opened it up and was momentarily taken aback by the fact that it was printed in Spanish.  Of course, she thought to herself, it would be, wouldn't it?

Thumbing through the pages, she observed the headings until she reached one topic that read, Hospitals.  She nodded to herself.  Okay, this was going to be easier than she had figured, since many words were shared by both languages.  Now, if she could just find someone at the hospital who spoke passable English.  Settling on the Hospital Clinica Biblica, she pressed the appropriate numbers on the keypad, and waited.

After two rings, the line was answered, and a female voice answered, "Hospital Clinica Biblica.  Como puedo dirigir su llamada?"

"Oh!" Ellie exclaimed, trying to remember her limited recollections of her high school foreign language class.  "Um, Usted habla Ingles?" she asked in halting Spanish.

"Un momento, por favor."

"Gracias."

She heard a "click" as she was placed on hold, and felt relief that apparently someone in the facility could speak English.  That made sense, since they probably saw American tourists from time to time.  A few moments later, another female voice with a heavy Costa Rican accent picked up the line and asked, "This is Nurse Barrientez.  How may I help you?"

"Is an English speaking doctor available to answer a medical question over the telephone?" Ellie asked.

"I'm sorry.  All our doctors are with patients right now.  Perhaps I could assist you?"

"Okay.  I have a friend who was . . ."  She hesitated.  The nurse would have no idea what she was talking about if she stated that Alan had been butted by a Pachycephalosaurus.  "He was injured in an accident yesterday, and we're unable to reach a hospital or clinic.  I think he has some broken ribs."

"Do you want I should send an ambulance?" the nurse inquired.

"No. There's no way that an ambulance could reach us.  I wrapped up his ribs to immobilize ---"

"No.  Unwrap them.  We don't do that anymore, Senora, because it restricts the patient's breathing."

This was an unexpected surprise.  "Really?  I didn't know that.  I thought wrapping them was standard practice."

"No, Senora, restricting a patient's breathing increases the risk of pneumonia and other infections of the lungs.  Is there no way you can bring him in for examination?"

"No, that's the problem.  We're on an island about two hundred miles off the coast, and we have no available transportation."

"Oh, I see.  Were you in a boating accident?"

"No.  We're scientists, and we're conducting research on one of the islands.  He is adamantly opposed to calling someone to pick us up, and to tell the truth, I'm not sure he could reach the landing strip or the coast anyway.  We're pretty far inland, and it's a long walk.  I felt his ribs, and there doesn't seem to be any caving in, but I could definitely feel breaks in two of them, and possibly a third."

"I see.  Here is what you need to do, Senora.  First, unwrap those ribs, and encourage him to breathe deeply as frequently as possible.  It will be painful for him, but it will help prevent infection from setting in.  Insist that he cough at least several times per day to keep his lungs clear.  The accident happened yesterday, you say?"

"Yes, yesterday afternoon.  He seems in pretty good spirits this morning, but I can tell he's in pain.  I've been worried about internal injury."

"Internal injury is always a possibility in the case of broken ribs, but if he has not been coughing up blood or showing other serious symptoms by now, then there is probably no need to worry about that at this time.  Keep him quiet, and don't let him move around much for the next few weeks.  Have you sufficient supplies to last that long?"

"Yes.  We're not expecting a supply drop for another three weeks, so we can get by that long.  Nurse, one thing that has me concerned is that he was running a fever overnight, but he insists that he had the fever and a sore throat yesterday morning as well, and now today his fever is gone, but now I seem to be running one."

"I would say it is unrelated if he had the sore throat and fever before the injury occurred.  You've probably picked up some kind of bacterial infection."

"I have some antibiotics with me, and I gave him one last night.  Should I keep giving them?"

"No.  You say his sore throat and the fever are gone this morning?"

"Yes."

"It is not wise to over-use antibiotics, Senora.  I would hold off a few days and see if the fever and sore throat go away on their own.  If you have any fruit juice, that would be good for both of you.  In any case, keep him quiet, and don't let him move around much for the next few weeks.  The pain will be severe for a few days, but if you have any aspirin or other pain medication, it may help some.  A heating pad applied to the area may offer some relief.  It will ease in a few days.  If any new symptoms occur, be sure to call back, and we'll send a helicopter to pick you up." 

Relief filled Ellie's heart and was evident in her voice, "Oh, thank you so much.  I didn't know you had a helicopter there."

"We are very modern here in San Jose, Senora.  We frequently have to send a helicopter out to rescue hikers in the mountains or boaters injured or stranded in boating accidents.  My name is Juanita Barrientez.  Ask for me specifically, and I will help you all I can."

Ellie quickly grabbed a pencil and scribbled the name on a pad of paper on the desk.  "Thank you.  Gracias.  You've been a big help."

Ellie terminated her call by pressing the "end" button on the keypad, and she returned the phone and the directory to the desk drawer.  She pushed it closed and sat quietly for several moments, turning over the conversation in her mind with immeasurable relief that if the need arose, Alan could be removed from the island via a rescue helicopter, which could easily land in any of the open areas around the compound.

With her mind more at ease, Ellie went into the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee to brew while she removed the left over Spam from the refrigerator, sliced it, and fried it in the skillet.  While it cooked, she opened the freezer again, thinking that she had remembered seeing a can of frozen concentrated juice.  She found it in the freezer door, a can of orange-pineapple, so she removed it, opened it, and prepared it according to the instructions.  Then she prepared sandwiches that were a replica of the one he had been unable to eat the evening before. Taking the sandwiches, two glasses of juice, and the mugs of coffee upstairs on a tray, she placed the tray on the bedside table.

"Ah, are you going to join me?" he asked, noticing that she had prepared a sandwich for herself as well.

"I didn't want to eat alone.  Here, let me help you," she added quickly as he struggled to sit up.  "Are there any more clean pillows in this building, anywhere?"

"Lots of pillows, but not many clean ones, I'm afraid."

"Sit tight, I'll see if I can rig something."

"How about the blanket?" he suggested, indicating the blanket she had covered him with during the night.  "I don't think I'll be needing it anymore.  You can roll it up or fold it or something, and tuck it under my pillow."

"Good idea," she agreed.

Quickly, she removed the blanket from the bed and wadded it up rather than folded it.  Neatness was not important, as long as it served the purpose.

He attempted to assist her by trying to sit up as she tucked the folded blankets under his pillow, but she would have none of that.  Placing her hands on his shoulders, she firmly held him down.  "You lie still and let me do the lifting, okay?  I don't want you putting any stress on those ribs."

"Yes ma'am," he said with a smile.

By pushing the blanket under his pillow, she propped him high enough that he could eat his breakfast comfortably without spilling anything.  She positioned his plate on his lower abdomen and moved the coffee cup and the juice glass to the edge of the night stand for easy reach.  He did not hesitate, but reached for the sandwich.

Ellie watched carefully as he ate, satisfied that his appetite had returned.

"So, did you call the hospital yet?" he asked.

"Yes, I did.  They were very helpful, too."  While he ate, she explained to him what the nurse had told her, including the helicopter should he need it. 

 

"That's good to know," he agreed, "but I'm sure we won't need it."

"Hopefully not, but it's a comfort to know about it.  As soon as you finish eating, I'll take that bandage off," she concluded.

"I wasn't aware that they don't wrap them anymore," he commented.

"Me neither, or I wouldn't have done it.  As for our fevers, she thinks it is something we picked up on the island, probably something bacterial, but of course she can't be sure without an examination.  She suggested we drink a lot of fruit juice and just wait it out.  I found the orange-pineapple in the freezer, but I don't know how old it is."

"It came with the last supply drop," he told her.  "To tell you the truth, I had forgotten about it."

"We also have plenty of tomatoes, so I can make some fresh tomato juice."

"Hey, that sounds good," he responded, eagerly.  "I don't think we have a juicer, though."

"Don't need one.  I saw a sieve under the work counter when I was looking for the bread pans the other day.  It's a little messy, but it gets the job done.  Well, if you're finished with breakfast, I think I'll head downstairs and get started on that."

"Ellie, you're not feeling well, either," Alan objected.  "Why don't you get some rest?  We can worry about that later."

"I don't feel bad, really.  My face just feels warm.  It won't take very long.  Then, when I'm done, I'll take a nap.  But first, let's get that bandage off."

When his plate was empty, she took it from him and returned it on the tray.  "Alan, you're going to have to sit up for this.  Give me your hands and I'll help you."

When he grasped her hands, she pulled him forward into a seated position.  He drew his breath in sharply through his teeth, a long hissing sound, but did not cry out.  Then, when he was upright, she unfastened the safety pins that secured the bandage around his middle, and carefully unwrapped it.

He gave an audible sigh of relief as the constant pressure was released from his injured ribs.  "That feels a little better already," he told her as he lay back again on the propped up pillow. 

"The nurse says you should breathe deeply and cough several times each day," Ellie instructed.  "She says it's important, so I want you to do it."  She was watching him, obviously expecting that he would comply immediately.

"I will, but if you don't mind, I'd rather do that when I'm alone."

She understood that he did not wish to express any more pain in front of her than he already had, so she nodded.  "Okay, just promise that you'll do it."

"I promise.  Would you mind removing the blanket?  I'd like to lie down."

"You're not feeling bad, are you?"

"No, it's just that this position is putting pressure on my back."

She withdrew the blanket from beneath his pillow and placed it on his dresser in case it was needed later, then she fluffed his pillow for him.  "Comfortable?"

"As comfortable as I can get lying on broken ribs," he answered.

Satisfied, Ellie picked up the tray and carried it downstairs.  The dishes were placed in one of the twin sinks to be washed later, then she emptied a couple bottles of water into a pot and set it on the stove to heat.  Because they would be consuming the tomatoes that would be boiled in the water, she did not want to use the rainwater which might contain bacteria.  Then, she went through the pile of tomatoes on the countertop where Alan had placed them yesterday and selected the ripest ones.  They were dropped one by one into the boiling water. 

She had seen her mother do this many times as a child, but couldn't remember specifically how long they were allowed to remain in the hot water.  Using her best judgment, she left them several moments, then removed them from the boiling pot and emptied them into a pan of cold water.  Almost immediately, she could see the skins start to shrivel.  Success!

Removing the conical sieve from beneath the cabinet, she cleaned it and set it over a large pan.  One by one, the tomatoes were peeled and dropped into the sieve, where she crushed them with the wooden pestle.  The tomato juice seeped through the small holes in the sieve, and began to fill the bottom of the pan.

"Excellent," Ellie murmured.  "I just wish I'd paid more attention to Mom when she did this!"

It was a tedious task, but she kept at it until she had enough juice to fill a jug, and she placed it in the refrigerator to cool.

After cleaning up the kitchen, she trudged wearily up the stairs and looked in on Alan.  He appeared to be sleeping again, so she returned to her own cubical and started to put on her sleepwear - then realized with an amused jolt that she was still wearing it!   She had been padding around all morning with her oversized tee shirt and bare legs and feet!  Oh, well.  Saved her the trouble of having to change again.  Moving to her bed, she collapsed on it and fell asleep almost immediately.

                                       ~~~~~~~

When Ellie awakened, her half-open eyes observed that there was no block of sunshine on the floor beneath the window in her cubicle, indicating that the sun had passed its zenith and was starting its downward slide toward the western horizon.  She had napped longer than she had intended. 

Lifting her head from the pillow, she focused her drowsy eyes on the clock on her bedside table.  It was three forty five in the afternoon. 

She sat up quickly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, noticing a slight scratchiness in her throat.  Her hand went to her neck, stroking the smooth skin.  Whatever illness Alan had, it was abundantly clear that she was now coming down with it as well.

It was long past lunchtime, and her thoughts instantly went to Alan, who must surely be waiting for his lunch.  Ignoring the tightness in her throat, she tossed back the sheet and quickly dressed in a pair of jeans and a tee shirt, then pushed aside her drape and moved to the door of Alan's cubicle.  She paused there briefly, placing her ear close to the cloth door to listen carefully, reluctant to disturb him if he was sleeping.  No sound came back to her from the other side, so she quietly pushed back the edge of the drape with her hand and peered inside.

Alan was awake, and saw the movement of the drape and the half of her face and one eye that was visible through it.  He smiled in greeting.  "Feeling better?"

"I should be asking you that question," she replied as she pushed the drape all the way open and stepped inside.  "So, how are you feeling?"

"Like I've been run over by a Pachycephalosaurus.  How 'bout you?  How's your fever?"

She smiled at his humor as she pressed her hand to her cheek, checking the warmth in her skin.  "Still there, I'm afraid.  And my throat is getting a bit sore.  Whatever this is, looks like we both have it.  Hungry?"

"Yeah, kinda."

"You should have woke me up."

"I couldn't do that.  After sitting at my side all night, you were exhausted and needed the rest.  And if your fever gets worse, I'll be sitting up with you tonight," he added.

"No, you won't.  You'll stay in bed and let those ribs heal!  Besides, I plan to stay inside and take care of myself."  Her words were a direct reference to him going out into the field the day before when he knew he was ill, but he took no offense.  Her smile was clear indication that her words were spoken without spite.  "What do you want for lunch?"

"Just open a can of soup.  I don't want you slaving in the kitchen over a meal while you're not feeling well.  If you'll help me up, I'll come down and help you."

"Soup sounds good, if you want the truth, but you're going to stay put.  I'll bring it up to you."

"I'm getting kind of tired of just lying here," he told her.  "I'd like to get up and move around a bit."

"You're going to stay in bed for a few more days, and I aim to see that you do!  You'll get even more tired of it before I let you get up!"

An amused smile crept to his lips at the stern posture she had taken.  "Well, I guess at this point I have no choice.  In my present condition, you could easily whip me."

"Damn right!" she said, enjoying her position as caregiver and woman in charge.  "I'll be back in a few minutes."

Leaving Alan in his bed, Ellie went downstairs and opened a can of chicken noodle soup, the proverbial cure-all-for-what-ails-you.  While it heated, she poured two glasses of tomato juice.  Then, when the soup was ready, she filled two bowls, loaded it onto the tray, and carried it up the stairs to Alan's cubical and placed it on the bedside table.

"I wish we could eat out on the deck," Alan lamented as Ellie propped up his pillow again.  "It's been a while since we've been up there."

"You miss something more when you're not able to do it.  Remember, we haven't been up there hardly at all since I arrived.  Maybe in a few days you'll feel up to making the trip up the stairs.  Right now, you just need to lie as still as possible and let those ribs start to mend.  Remember, I had to stay in bed a long time after the accident, so I know what you're going through.  If you were in the hospital, you could watch television to help pass the time."

He didn't answer, but gave her one of those expressions she had seen so many times years earlier whenever she was prodding him on a particular subject.  She looked away, feeling almost ashamed at her own persistence.  Sometimes, she tended to carry her tenacity too far, and she realized that she was approaching that level now.  She knew she would have to accept the fact that going to the hospital was still an issue he would not discuss, so she gave up on the subject, vowing not to bring it up again.

"The nurses would come in and turn on the TV for me, but I wasn't interested in watching it," she continued.  "In fact, I barely remember any of it.  After I went home, Mom used to read aloud to me to help pass the time.  I was so out of it that I couldn't concentrate on reading myself.  I really didn't listen to the words much, but I think it made her feel better to be there for me.  Hearing her voice was comforting, somehow."

"She's a good woman," Alan said. 

"Yes, she is.  She always took good care of me.  I feel a little guilty that I haven't let her and Dad know that I'm safe.  We've been so busy that I haven't thought about it much, but I imagine they're probably beside themselves with worry.  They know these islands are dangerous, and I haven't even let them know I made it safely."

"Why don't you call them and let them know you're okay?"

Her heart lifted.  "You think it would be all right?"

"Of course it would be all right, and don't worry about the phone not reaching that far.  You know Hammond - he always gets the best.  'Spared no expense' I believe is the term he always uses.  I just wish I'd thought about it sooner."

She glanced at her watch quickly.  "Its Central Standard Time zone here, isn't it?"

"Costa Rica is, yes.  These islands, I'm not sure.  They may be far enough out from the mainland to be Mountain Time, but I have my watch set to Central Time because of my communications with Miguel."

"Okay, Arlington is Eastern time.  I'll wait a few more hours to make sure that Dad will be home from work when I call."  She returned her empty soup bowl to the tray.  "Is there anything I can get you to make you more comfortable?"

"No, don't worry about me, Ellie.  You need to be concerning yourself with your own illness."

"I don't have broken ribs to complicate matters," she reminded him.  "Maybe I could get you a book?"

"No, what you could do, is bring my journal and a pen."

She sighed heavily with disapproval.  "Are you sure you want to work right now?"

"I need to get everything that happened yesterday down on paper while it's still fresh in my mind."

"Always the scientist.  Okay.  I'll bring it right up.  Anything else?"

"Can't think of anything at the moment."

When they were finished with their dinner, Ellie carried the tray down the stairs and placed the dishes in the sink.  While the water heated on the stove for washing, she went into the office and picked up Alan's journal from the desktop where he had left it, selected a pen, and took them upstairs.

He reached for them eagerly when she held them out.  "Could you turn on the light, please?" he asked.  "I don't want to be a nuisance, but it pulls on my back whenever I reach for it."

She flipped on the light.  "How's that?"

"One more notch."

She turned the switch once more and the light brightened.  "Better?"

"Great.  Thanks."

"Well, I'll go do the dishes, then I'll call Mom and Dad."

"Say hi for me," he said, opening the journal to the next blank page and propped it on his leg.  The pen was positioned over the page as he paused to put his thoughts into words.  Then he began to write.

Ellie went back down the stairs and washed the dishes, keeping a watchful eye on the time.  Her father was normally home by five-thirty, but she waited a while longer just to be sure in case he worked late, as he occasionally did.  Finally, calculating that the time in Arlington was seven o'clock, she went into the office again and sat down in Alan's chair.  Withdrawing the phone from the drawer, she turned it on and punched in the numbers on her keypad.

For Ilene and Ed Sattler, the past three weeks had been almost unbearable.  Unaware of the fate of their daughter on an island known for its dangerous inhabitants, they existed in a state of constant worry, wishing desperately that the phone would ring and at the same time dreading the news that that the call might reveal.

Supper at the Sattler household had been finished and the dishes had been washed and put away.  Seated in his favorite chair, Ed watched one of the popular news channels on television while his wife sat on the sofa, an open book on her lap.  Neither of them was able to concentrate on what they were seeing. 

The ringing of the telephone startled them both out of their thoughts, and Ilene's book slipped from her hand, coming to rest between the seat cushion and the arm of the chair.  After exchanging a quick glance with her husband, she reached for it and looked at the display.  The caller ID read:  Wireless call.  Wondering who would be calling, she pressed the talk button and said, "Hello?"

"Hi, Mom!" came the pleasant voice she had been wishing to hear for the past three weeks.

A wave of warm relief washed over Ilene and tears of joy sprang to her eyes, rendering her momentarily speechless.  She pressed her hand to her trembling lip.

"Mom?  Are you there?" Ellie prompted.

"Ellie!  Honey!" she exclaimed when she had recovered her voice.  "You don't know how glad I am to hear your voice!"

The worry lines smoothed from Ed's forehead as he rose up eagerly in his chair.  "Is that her?" he asked.

She nodded in response to her husband's inquiry.

"I'll get on the extension!" he said, rising quickly to his feet.  He hurried into the kitchen for the other telephone. 

While her husband left the room, she said, "Your father's getting on the extension.  Are you off the island yet?" she asked, hopefully.  "Are you on your way home?"

"No, we're still on the island.  Wow, this is a great connection!  Mr. Hammond provided Alan with a satellite telephone, but I didn't realize they'd work this well."

A click on the phone indicated that the extension had just been picked up, and Ed said, "Ellie, honey?"

"Hi, Dad."

"We've thought about you constantly since you left!  How are you feeling?"

"I feel so much better, Dad.  The work is interesting and the animals are fascinating.  The air here is so clean and fresh, and the scenery is breathtaking!  This was exactly what I needed to get back on the right track, both physically and emotionally."

"You sound better," Ed acknowledged.

Although Ellie had not included him in her comments, Ilene was not oblivious to the source of the happiness she heard in her daughter's voice, happiness that she knew came from being in Alan Grant's presence even more than the scenery or the fresh air.  He was like a tonic for her, and she could deny that no longer.  "So, how is Alan?" she asked, introducing the subject as a casual inquiry.  "You were so worried about him before you left."

"He's fine.  Well, he has a couple of broken ribs, but he's healing, and should be back on his feet in a couple of weeks."

"So your premonition was correct then?  He's been injured?"

"Yes, I'm afraid he has, but he'll be okay." 

Ilene was almost afraid to ask, but she couldn't stop herself.  "What - what happened?  You weren't in any danger, were you?"

"It was a Pachycephalosaurus.  It's a bipedal herbivore that uses its head like a battering ram.  It isn't very big, but it obviously felt threatened by Alan or something he was doing.  It butted him from behind, hitting him in the back just right of his spine.  I was there with your mace, and I would have used it, but it backed off.  He's in a lot of pain, but he'll be all right.  He says hi, too.  How are you both doing?"

"We're all right, but we've been worried about you.  We've thought of little else since you left.  Are you sure you're all right?  Do you have a safe place to live?  You're not living in the jungle with the animals, are you?"

Ellie laughed, a sound they had not heard since before the accident, and both parents were quick to notice that the laughter was genuine.  "No, no, we're not living in the jungle.  We're staying in a dormitory at the compound that was built for the workers.  It's constructed of masonry block, and very solid.  Nothing can get inside, so we're completely safe."

There was great relief in Ilene's voice.  "Well, that's good to hear.  It's been a long three weeks for us."

This caught Ellie by surprise.  "Has it been three weeks already?  It doesn't seem that long!"

"Well, it's seemed like an eternity for your father and me, not knowing if you were okay or if you had made it safely!"

"I know you've been worried about me, and I'm sorry I didn't call sooner. It's just that we've been so busy!  There are so many animals here that weren't on the other island, and its fascinating seeing them and the way they interact with each other!"

"They're not . . .  dangerous, are they?"

"Most of them are plant eaters, perfectly harmless.  And we have some weapons to protect us against the dangerous ones."  She was glad they could not see her face, for she knew she was grimacing at the statement she had made to them.   It wasn't entirely a lie; they had the shock prod.  "I used the pepper spray against one last week, and it works too!" she added, cheerfully, omitting the fact that the animal in question had been a juvenile Rex, and that neither the prod nor the spray would have any effect against a full grown T-Rex.  "Try not to worry, we'll be perfectly fine."

Her assurances seemed to ease their minds somewhat.  "Well, that's good to know," Ed said, his cautious voice indicating that he wasn't entirely convinced of his daughter's complete safety, but grateful that they could protect themselves if the need arose.  "So, what kinds of work have you been doing?" he asked.

"Mostly just observing from a distance and filming, documenting their behavior, things like that.  We try to avoid physical contact with them, even the harmless ones.  We watched a parasaurolophus lay her eggs yesterday.  It was fascinating the way she incubates them with leaf litter, like one of your compose heaps.  When Alan's back on his feet, we'll hopefully get to see them hatch."

"Don't overdo it, honey," Ilene urged.  "I still think you should be resting."

"I get plenty of rest, but I'm really working out hard, too.  What I really need is to get back into shape, and Alan's really been helpful with that.  There's a gymnasium in the dorm, and we work out almost every day.  Then, when we go out in the field to study the animals, we have to walk everywhere we go.  It was pretty rough at first, but I'm starting to get my stamina back.  And I'm past the worst of the emotional stuff too, Mom.  You were right about having a good cry.  Alan helped me through that as well, and I'm fine now."

Alan again, Ilene thought with a trace of irritation.  Her voice became slightly animated.  "Well, it sounds like Alan has really been there for you."  I should be the one helping you through this! insisted the inner voice of motherhood with a trace of jealousy that her daughter had found comfort elsewhere, comfort she had not been able to provide.

"He has, Mom.  He's been wonderful.  Well, he was a little angry with me when I first got here."  She paused, then confessed, "All right, he was a lot angry, but he's warmed to the idea of me being here."

"Has he?" Ilene said by way of acknowledgment, then fell silent.

Ellie could not contain her smile, understanding the thoughts that must have entered Ilene's mind.  She knew her mother was curious about the sleeping arrangements but did not want to come out and ask her grown daughter about it.  Taking the initiative, Ellie decided it would be a good idea to set her mind at ease right away.  "Did I tell you about the dormitory?  It's a big two story building with a deck on the roof where we sometimes go to eat or relax.  You can see for miles up there over the tops of the trees.  Downstairs, there's a huge kitchen and a couple of sitting rooms.  The sleeping area is portioned off in separate cubicles, so even though Alan and I are technically in the same large room, we still have our own private bedroom areas with our own walls." 

That seemed to lift Ilene's spirits.  "Oh, I see.  Well, it's good that you have your privacy.  You need that right now."

"And Alan knows that," Ellie assured her.  "Don't worry about him, Mom.  He's a decent man."

Ilene felt a twinge of shame that she had doubted Alan's character.  "I know.  It's just that people talk, you understand."

A frown tightened Ellie's brow.  "What do you mean, people talk?  Is someone saying something I should know about?"

Ilene hesitated.  "Well, I didn't want to bring this up, but your father and I went over to your house last weekend to make sure everything is okay, and your next door neighbor saw us and came over.  I think she was quizzing us about you.  The curious thing is, she knows where you are."

"You must mean Mrs. Sanderson.  I told her I was going to the islands and meeting a friend there."

"Yes.  Well, she knows that the friend is Alan, and let it be known that she thinks it a most improper way for a widow to behave.  I told her she was way off base if she was thinking illicit thoughts, that you and Alan are just friends and coworkers, and that you're there to conduct scientific research."

"Everything you told her is the truth.  Mrs. Sanderson spreads gossip around the entire neighborhood, and no one really takes her seriously."

"I'm afraid they may take her seriously about this.  You know how people like a scandal."

"Mom, there's nothing scandalous about this.   I do have the right to go on with my life.  Would she be happy if I was still prostrate with grief?  Never mind, don't answer that!" she quipped.  "I do believe she would.  I've always felt like she had a bit of a crush on Mark, anyway."

"Ellie!" Ilene scolded, but Ellie heard the trace of laughter in her voice.  "She's old enough to be Mark's mother!"

"That doesn't matter to some people!"

"Let's not lower ourselves to her level, okay?  She's also under the impression that you're going to sell your house."

"I'm considering selling the house.  I haven't made any kind of decision about that yet, and I told her I wouldn't be ready to deal with it until I got back."

"So, when are you coming back?"

"That's impossible to say.  It could be another couple of months."

"Months!" Ilene exclaimed, feeling suddenly deflated by the news that she would have to continue to worry about her daughter.

"Don't worry, Mom," Ellie said, reassuringly.  "Everything is fine.  My health is really improving, I'm happier than I've been in ye ----" She stopped abruptly, and changed her wording, "in a long time, and I'm enjoying the place I'm at right now.  I'm finding peace again, and I love the work we're doing."

"I hope you're not spending all your time working."

"No, of course not.  It rains a lot here, so there are days when we can't get out into the field.  I bake cookies and bread, and relax with other things.  Alan has a garden out back, with tons of fresh vegetables.  I've even made some fresh tomato juice!"

"Mm, that sounds good," Ed said, longingly.  "My tomatoes aren't even in the ground yet!"

"The climate here is perfect for gardening."  Ellie glanced at her watch.  "Well, I need to get off of here so I won't run the bill up too much.  I just wanted to let you know that I'm okay and that I'm getting better."

"We're so glad you called Ellie.  We love you," Ilene said.

"Love you, honey," Ed added.

"I love you too.  I'll call again in a few weeks."

"Well be looking forward to it."

Ellie experienced a lonely twinge in her heart as she pressed the "end" button on the phone and returned it to the desk drawer.  It would require recharging before another lengthy phone call was placed, but she felt good that she had set her parents' minds at ease about her welfare.

Ilene and Ed both hung up their extensions slowly, then joined one another in the living room again, their eyes meeting as they turned over the conversation with their daughter in their minds.

"She sounds a lot better," Ed ventured.

"Yes."

He cocked his head, curiously, sensing that she was holding back.  "But?"

She shrugged.  "I don't know.  It's nothing."

"It's Alan, isn't it?" he asked.  "You must surely have heard her change of wording in that one sentence.  She was going to say that she's happier now than she's been in years.  I think it's pretty obvious.   She never stopped loving him."

Ilene nodded, slowly.  "I'm afraid that's true.  I caught that slip of the tongue, too.  She's happier right now, on that island with him, than she was the whole time she was married to Mark.  I know she cared deeply for Mark, but I guess it's Alan who will always own her heart."

He drew his wife into his arms.  "Don't hold it against her, dear.  We can't choose whom to love.  Maybe Ellie's right.  Maybe she and Alan are connected in some way that human logic can't understand.  I know I'd never be truly happy if something ever came between you and me.  Maybe that's how it is between them."

She laid her head on his chest, safe in his arms.  "You always know what to say, don't you?"

He smiled.  "I try.  It's just sad that she's lost so much in reaching the point where she is now."

"I remember when she received that wedding gift from Alan," she mused.  "I heard her in the bedroom later, crying.  I was afraid she might not go through with the wedding.  Now, God forgive me for saying it, but I wonder if it would have been better if she hadn't."

His embrace tightened.  "I know you favored Mark as a choice of a husband for her, but when I read Alan's note congratulating her on her wedding, as a man I could understand what he was feeling.  Even though he didn't say it, I could see it between the lines.  His heart was breaking."

She lifted her head to look into his face, surprised by his words.  "If he loved her so much, why didn't he come after her?"

"Pride.  Foolish, male pride.  It's our liability, you see.  We don't face emotional issues that same way women do.  Women cry and get it all out in the open, but men don't want anyone to know when we've been hurt, so we keep it bottled up inside.  He probably figured that she had found more happiness with Mark than he could have provided her.  In a way, it speaks greatly of his love for her.  He loved her enough to let her go."

"I must admit, I never thought about it like that.  I thought they had just broken up, and that was the end of it, that he had simply moved on."

"I don't think he ever completely moved on.  I knew what he was doing from the beginning."

"Why didn't you say something?"

"I didn't want to interfere.  I figured Ellie knew what she wanted when she decided to marry Mark."

"She wanted children."

"I know.  And Alan didn't.  I guess that was their main stumbling block.  It's just a shame they couldn't work through that."

"That's not something you can compromise over," Ilene pointed out.  "Either you want children, or you don't.  There's no in-between agreement that can be reached.  One or the other is going to be unhappy over the outcome."

"Well, I guess that isn't a factor any more."

"No, I guess not.  Do you think they'll get back together?"

"Well, that's impossible to predict, but I wouldn't be surprised if they do eventually.  In the meantime, though, I think Alan will give her the space she needs.  He doesn't strike me as the type of man who would make a move on a grieving widow."

She nodded.  "Well, I've thought the same thing, but it's nice to hear that you feel the same way." 

"Well, at least we can rest easier tonight.  Ellie is happy and she's recovering."

She snuggled against him, content in his arms.  "Yes, I feel so relieved that she called," she said, but she understood that seeing Ellie happy with Alan meant she would no longer get to see her daughter on a regular basis.

                                      ~~~~~~

Ellie went back upstairs to check on Alan, and as she pulled aside the curtain, she saw that his head had tipped forward, and he had fallen asleep.  His writing pad was about to slip from his hand, so she tiptoed inside the cubicle and carefully released it from his grasp and placed it on the bedside table.  Gently, she eased the pen from his other hand and placed it on top of the notebook.

He awakened with a start, and jerked his head up.

"I didn't mean to wake you up," she apologized.

"I was just resting my eyes," he said.

Ellie smiled.  "Why is it everyone who gets woke up like that denies they were asleep?"

He yawned, cutting it short when he felt a stab of pain in his ribs.  "Damn, I'd give anything to draw a deep breath," he complained.  Before she could comment, he asked, "How's your folks?"

"Very relieved to hear from me.  I talked longer than I intended, so we'll need to recharge the telephone.  I should have called them sooner.  I hope you don't mind, but I told them I'd call again in a couple of weeks.  I'll pay for the call if you'll let me know how much it is."

"Don't worry about it.  Call them as often as you want."  He yawned again, very carefully.

"Here, let me get that blanket out from under you pillow so you can rest." 

He didn't resist when she pulled the blanket from beneath the pillow, and he eased himself back down on it.  "I think I'll take a nap," he said.

Ellie set the blanket aside and turned off the light, then watched him for several moments as he carefully shifted position and closed his eyes to sleep. 

"Why don't you get some rest, too," he murmured.

"I will," she promised.

Quietly, she left his cubicle and went into her own to lie down again, but she could not stop thinking about her phone call and the events of the past three weeks.  Her parents had been wonderful in the aftermath of her accident, caring for her when she had needed it, but she knew that it had been Alan who had healed her wounded spirit.  In spite of the close calls with the Rex and the Spinosaurus, the injuries he had sustained, and the illness that she was now fighting, if given the chance, she would not alter her decision to come to the island.  No matter what happened, she was glad she was there, and in her heart, she knew she could never leave him again.